Heroics: A Christmas Story
by Overseer47
Summary: What makes a hero? Is it the strength? The ambition? The spandex? Or perhaps it is something more... Okay, this is old, I know, but it was updated for a reason.


Hello. This is Overseer.

_5/8/05:Late Breaking Annoucement_: _Chaos ensued earlier this month as the Nazis at FF. net suddenly decided that there would be no more songfics. To this I say: "Screw that! As long I post the copyright info, I can do whatever I want! So, here goes!" On a side note, this is obviouslyan old fic; from this past Christmas, to be prescise. Don't read it if you don't want to, this is simply a copyright update. Anyway, here goes._

Most of you have never read my work. Perhaps some of you have. Perhaps you saw my name and came in expecting another irreverent comedy fic. I'm somewhat glad to announce you are mistaken. But don't let that deter you, this is still my world, and everyone's favorite Tamaranian is still here. (Haven't read my other stuff? Go search up "Hero's Story" for some background). I just wanted to take a stab at something that wasn't action or comedy. So, in light of the season, and the holiday spirit, I'm proud to begin this little semi-songfic.

The song is Trans-Siberian Orchestra's _Old City Bar_(lyrics changed slightly) from their CD "Christmas Eve and Other Stories", Copyright 1996, Atlantic Recording Corporation. Lyrics by Paul O'Neill.

Enjoy.

Christmastime in Jump City. Lights flood the sky. Carolers flock through the streets. Children laugh. Families bask in the comfortable glow of the fire. Everyone is happy. Almost…

_In an old city bar,_

_That is never too far,_

_From the places that gather,_

_The dreams that have been._

_  
In the safety of night,_

_With its old neon light,_

_It beckons to strangers,_

_And they always come in._

_  
And the snow it was falling._

_The neon was calling._

_The music is low,_

_and the night Christmas Eve._

A black Toyota Supra slowly made its way down Shopping Way, the driver stopping occasionally to gaze at a window display, or let some children run by. The car pulled into a parking space beside the road, and the nineteen-year-old boy turned in his seat, looking over the stacks of presents in the back seat. Ryan reached in his pocket for a list.

"Let's see…

_Tim_ - free weights. Check.

_Vic _– Initial D box set. Check.

_Gar_ – Twisted Super Uber Nitro Ultra Kart: The Wrath of the Flying Killer Ninja whatevers… Check.

_Kory_ – _A Hatful of Seuss, by Dr. Seuss… _Check.

_Raven – Blackwater Park_… Ooh, not check…"

The Tamaranian boy looked about. There was a music store right next to where he was parked.

"Perfect." He hopped out of his car and headed in.

_  
And here was the danger,_

_that even with strangers,_

_inside of this night,_

_It's easy to believe._

Ryan thanked the cashier and walked out the door, spying a bar across the street. He could use a hot chocolate…

As he placed his hand on the old oaken door, he couldn't help but notice the girl at the corner, her blonde hair visible even through the snow. She pulled a tattered old jacket about herself, trying to keep out the frost and the cold.

Ryan sighed and pulled open the door, disappearing in a flurry of wind and snow.

_  
Then the door opened wide,_

_and_ _a boy stepped inside_

_that no one in the bar_

_had seen there before._

_  
And he asked:_

"Did you know,

that outside in the snow

that someone is lost,

standing outside your door?"

_  
Then the bartender gazed _

_through the smoke and the haze,_

_through the window and ice,_

_to a corner street light._

"_Tara Markov, professional wanderer_…"

She sighed, her head hanging. Man that sounded lame. Christmas Eve, and she was leaning on a streetlamp, wishing she had a purpose. Someone to love. A place to call home.

_  
Where standing alone,_

_by a broken pay phone,_

"Is a girl," _The child said,_

"who can no longer get home."

_  
And the snow it was falling._

_The neon was calling._

_The bartender turned_

_and said, _"Not that I care,

but how would you know this?"

_The boy said, _"I've noticed,"

"that if one could be home,

they'd be already there."

_  
Then the bartender came_

_out from behind the bar,_

_and in all of his life,_

_he was never that far._

_  
And he did something else,_

_that he thought no one saw,_

_when he took all the cash_

_from the register draw._

Ryan smiled at the bartender.

"C'mon. I'll show you the way."

_  
Then he followed that boy_

_to the girl across the street._

_And we watched from the bar,_

_as they started to speak._

_  
The boy called for a cab,_

_and he said, _"Harbor Way",

_put the girl in the cab,_

and the cab drove away.

_  
And we saw in his hand,_

_that the cash was all gone._

_From the light that she had wished upon… _

_  
If you want to arrange it,_

_this world you can change it._

_If we could somehow make _

_this Christmas thing last,_

Ryan smiled and waved at the girl with her face pressed against the back seat window. He never even got her name. It didn't matter though. No one else would care in the long run anyway. This was between him, the girl, and the bartender. Nothing else mattered. Little did he realize just how much it _did_ matter, for the girl whom he had helped would one day use the good will he gave her to become an incredible heroine. But that's another story for another time…

_by helping a neighbor,_

_or even a stranger._

_And to know who need help,_

_you need only to ask._

As the bartender stood staring at the street, long after the cab had passed out of sight, Ryan made his way back to his car, gunned the motor, and headed off in the opposite direction. With not the slightest bit of irritation, he realized that he had forgotten his hot chocolate. It didn't matter. He was warm inside anyway. And besides, he had presents to deliver.

_The barkeep looked for the boy,_

_but the boy wasn't there._

_Just the wind and the snow,_

_waltzing dreams through the air._

_  
So he walked back inside,_

_somehow different I think:_

_For the rest of the night,_

_no one paid for a drink._

_  
And the cynics will say_

_that some neighborhood kid_

_wandered in on some bums,_

_in the place where they hid._

_  
But they weren't there, _

_So they couldn't see._

_By an old neon star,_

_on that night, Christmas Eve._

_  
When the snow it was falling,_

_the neon was calling._

_And in case you should wonder,_

_in case you should care,_

_  
Why she was out on her own,_

_and she never went home_

_on that night of all nights,_

_  
...She was already there..._

_  
The End_

_Happy Holidays everyone!_


End file.
